It hadn’t hurt that the room was spacious, decked out with antiques and painted the soft, warm green of forest shadows. The bath had been a killer, too, she recalled as she snuggled in. An enormous jet tub in gleaming white dominated a room nearly half the size of her entire loft, with that same rich green for the acre of counters. But it was the wide bowl of sink in hammered copper that had made her purr with delight.

She’d nearly given in to the temptation to wallow in the tub, indulge herself with some of the bath salts and oils housed in heavy crystal jars and arranged with fat, glossy candles on the counter. But images of movie heroines attacked while bathing had her putting that idea on hold.

All and all, the vampire’s pied-à-terre—she could hardly call such luxury a den—made mincemeat of her little loft in the West Village.

Though she admired the vampire’s taste, it didn’t stop her from putting a protective charm on the bedroom door in addition to turning the lock.

Now, she rolled over, shucked the pillow to stare at the ceiling in the dim light of the lamp she’d left on low through the night. She was sleeping in a vampire’s guest room. She’d displaced a twelfth-century sorcerer to the sofa. A gorgeous and serious-minded type who was on a mission, and expected her to join in his battle against an ancient and powerful vampire queen.

She’d lived with magic all of her life, was gifted with skills and knowledge most people never dreamed existed in reality. And still, this was one for the books.

She liked her life the way it was. And knew, without a doubt, that she would never have it quite that way again. Knew, in fact, she might lose that life altogether.

But what were her choices? She couldn’t very well do nothing, couldn’t put a pillow over her head and hide for the rest of her life. It knew her, and had already sent an emissary.

If she stayed, pretended none of it had ever happened, it could come for her, any time, anywhere. And she’d be alone.

Would she fear the night now? Would she glance over her shoulder every time she was outside after sunset? Would she wonder if a vampire only she could see would slink onto the subway the next time she rode uptown?

No, that was no way to live at all. The only way to live—the only real choice—was to face the problem, and handle the fear. And to do just that along with joining her powers and resources to Hoyt’s.

Knowing sleep was no longer possible, she glanced at the clock, rolled her eyes at the early hour. Then resigned, she climbed out of bed.

In the living room, Cian ended his night with a brandy, and an argument with his brother.

He had, on occasion, returned to his living quarters at dawn with the sensation of loneliness, a kind of hollowness. He took no woman in the daylight, even with the drapes closed. Sex was, in Cian’s mind, a position of vulnerability as well as power. He didn’t choose to share that vulnerability when the sun was up.

It was rare for him to have company after sunrise and before dusk. And those hours were often long and empty. But he’d discovered on stepping into his own apartment and finding his brother there, he preferred the long and empty to the crowded and demanding.

“You expect her to stay here until you decide your next move. And I’m telling you that isn’t possible.”

“How would she be safe otherwise?” Hoyt argued.

“I don’t believe her safety is on my list of immediate concerns.”

How much had his brother changed, Hoyt thought in disgust, that he wouldn’t immediately stand for a woman, for an innocent? “We’re all at risk now, everything’s at risk now. We have no choice but to stay together.”

“I have a choice, and it isn’t sharing my quarters with a witch, or with you, for that matter,” he added, gesturing with the snifter. “I don’t allow anyone in here during the day.”

“I was here through yesterday.”

“An exception.” Cian got to his feet. “And one I’m already regretting. You’re asking far too much from one who cares far too little.”

“I haven’t begun to ask yet. I know what must be done. You spoke of survival. And it’s yours at risk now, as much as hers. As mine.”

“More, as your redhead might take it into her head to stake me while I sleep.”

“She isn’t my... ” Frustrated, Hoyt waved that off. “I would never let her harm you. I swear it to you. In this place, at this time, you’re my only family. My only blood.”

Cian’s face went blank as stone. “I have no family. No blood but my own. The sooner you come to that, Hoyt, accept that, the better you’ll be for it. What I do, I do for myself, not for you. Not for your cause, but for me. I said I’d fight with you, and so I will. But for my own reasons.”

“What are they then? Give me that at least.”

“I like this world.” Cian eased down on the arm of a chair as he sipped brandy. “I like what I’ve carved out of it, and I intend to keep it, and on my own terms—not on Lilith’s whimsy. That’s worth the fight to me. Added to it, a few centuries of existence has its eras of boredom. I seem to be in one. But I have limits. Having your woman tucked up in my quarters goes beyond them.”

“She’s hardly my woman.”

A lazy smile curved Cian’s mouth. “If you don’t make her so, you’re even slower than I remember in that area.”

“This isn’t sport, Cian. It’s a fight to the death.”

“I know more of death than you will ever know. More of blood and pain and cruelty. For centuries I’ve watched mortals, again and again, teeter close to their own extinction, by their own hand. If Lilith were more patient, she could simply wait them out. Take your pleasures where you find them, brother, for life is long and often tedious.”

He toasted with his glass. “Another reason I’ll fight. It’s something to do.”

“Why not join with her then?” Hoyt spat out. “With the one who made you what you are.”

“She made me a vampire. I made myself what I am. As for why I align with you and not with her? I can trust you. You’ll keep your word, for that’s the way you’re made. She never will. It’s not her nature.”

“And what of your word?”

“Interesting question.”

“I’d like the answer to it.” Glenna spoke from the doorway. She wore the black silk robe she’d found hanging in the closet with a number of other pieces of intimate female attire. “You two can squabble all you like, it’s what men do, and siblings. But since my life’s on the line, I want to know who I can count on.”